One of Those Days
by nebbyJen
Summary: Sheppard's day goes from bad to worse. Multiple POV Fic.
1. Default Chapter

**One of Those Days**

Author/Email: nebbyjen

Archive: Jumper Bay, FF, SGAHC

Status: Complete

Category: Humor, H/C, Friendship

Summary: Sheppard's having a really rough day.

Season/Spoiler: Season One, No spoilers.

Author's Notes: Atlantis isn't mine…blah, blah, blah. Not betaed.

**One of Those Days**

Did you ever have one of 'those' days? Come on, you know the one. It's where you're absolutely certain that if you hadn't gotten out of bed in the morning, that you wouldn't have found yourself in the mess you were currently in. There would be a completely, statistically impossible probability that hiding from the world for 24 hours and not emerging, totally bypassing this day, my life would have turned out one hell of a lot different. But no, I just had to answer the call of nature, and from there it went downhill so fast I'm not even sure when my life came to the abrupt screeching halt that has brought me …here.

Where, you may ask? Let me tell you. It ain't pretty, so if you're squeamish and don't like the smell of raw sewage, burnt hair, or puke, give it up now and walk away. It's safer. Trust me.

Still here? Fine, then like I said, it all started with answering nature's call.

SG: A

"This is Major Sheppard, would you send someone from maintenance to my quarters, please. And make sure whoever comes brings a mop… and a bucket."

Fifteen minutes later, a rap to the door announced the arrival of _him._ No, not him! _Him-him_. You know; the Australian one. The one the women on board secretly refer to as 'Adonis'. Puh-leez.

"G'day, Mate. Got yourself a problem this morning?"

I stand there staring at him trying to decide which is worse, the gleaming smile filled with perfectly white teeth or the tan and sun bleached blonde hair that is never out of place. And here I stand, my feet are covered in crap, I haven't even had the chance to brush my teeth, and I'm pretty sure that ripe smell is the shirt I'm still wearing from yesterday.

"The toilet overflowed," I grumbled. "It made a gurgling noise and then erupted."

"Aye," he nods, making his way through the mess in my quarters towards the bathroom. "A couple of other mates experienced the same thing. Must be a bug in the system. I'll have it cleaned up for you in no time."

Once he, oh right not all of you know his name, sorry I forgot, Mickey, disappeared within the small room, I hastily stashed my away gear from yesterday's return mission, crinkling my nose at the smell of my uniform jacket. Gads, the odor lets me know I'm a few days past a necessary trip to the laundry. Lost in thought of my dirty clothes, I almost missed him talking to me. "What's that?"

The blonde head poked back out into my quarters with a blinding grin, "I asked you, John, if you were coming to my party tonight?"

Party. Party. Oh yeah, his bachelor party. The first official wedding of Atlantis would be between Adonis here and his lovely lady, April Kensington, Dr. Z's assistant. "Oh, I wouldn't miss it. Dr. McKay and I were just talking about it yesterday and he was saying he really needs a good party. I guess he's feeling a bit tense lately and wants to let it all hang loose."

Mickey's grin widened, if that was even possible, and he nodded. "Good, I was hoping to see him there. Pretty much everyone from the labs are gonna show." He disappeared once more but continued talking, but I must confess, I tuned him out, once again searching for a clean pair of pants.

Okay, so I might have obfuscated a bit on the McKay wanting to go thing. I think Rodney's exact words were, "Why would I want to waste my time at the Greek god's free for all? Wild flying horses couldn't drag me there." Little does he know, if I'm going, so is he.

Scoring a fresh uniform, I hold it up in triumph, "Yes!" A chortle behind me stops my little football goal dance and I turn to find Mickey's amused grin aimed at me.

"All done, John, she's as good as new. Any more problems, give me a ring."

I have to stand and shake my head in wonder, watching him stroll out my door with his mop, bucket, and plunger, as if cleaning a sewage meltdown first thing in the morning was an every day occurrence. I have to ask, "Hey, Mickey?"

He stops and waits for me to catch up. "You're a demolitions expert, why do you fix the toilets?"

"My dad was a plumber, taught me everything I know. There's nothing wrong with doing an honest day's work, John." He winked at me, ducked his way around two female techs in the hall, "G'day ladies," he said in that Aussie accent that made them swoon, and then walked out of sight.

The women both whispered to each other, blushing furiously, then spied me standing there in all my glory. One rolled her eyes and the other just nodded in passing. What? I just got back yesterday and my toilet overflowed. I stepped back inside my quarters, grabbed my clean uniform, and went in search of McKay. Hopefully his shower was functional.

SG: A

"You told him, what!"

Okay, I kind of expected that from him. Thank goodness I didn't tell him he was going with me until _after_ I'd used his shower. "Look, it's only for a couple of hours. We can grab Beckett, have a drink or two, see what Radek's planned, and head out. We're in, we're out."

He gives me the eye. You know the one where he doesn't move, just scowls shooting daggers, arms crossed, trying to look mean. Get real, the guy's a pushover, putty in my hands. All I got to do is pull out the 'team' card and he'll follow me like I'm carrying a picnic basket to Grandma's house. I decide to lay it on thick and sigh, "It's not how I wanted to spend the evening, either. But we've got to think of Radek. He's gone through all the work of setting it up. If we don't show, who knows what he might rig to explode, or implode, or booby trap; that devious Czech mind can be pretty original when it wants to be." I shake my head and sigh again. "We've got to go for the team."

"I hate you."

The reply was a dry, concise, 'I hate you.' He didn't mean it. It was physically, emotionally impossible for him to hate me. I'm his best friend, for crying out loud. The brother he never had. The ying to his yang. No, wait, that sounded kinda slashy. Stick to the brother/friend analogy.

"McKay, it's not going to kill you to be sociable." He shifts on his feet and I know I'm winning.

"So help me, he calls me Roddy one more time, I'm out of there."

I scratch my cheek, remembering Mickey calling me John while fixing my crapper, "Yeah, he does have a thing for the first name basis, doesn't he?" McKay is staring at me with the 'Well?' look and I realize that he wants to get back to work. "So, I'll meet you around six? We can round up Carson, get a bite to eat, and then party until the cows come home."

He's still staring at me and I get kind of spooked. "Uh, I need to, uh," I point over my shoulder towards the door of his lab, "find Weir. Finish my reports. You know…" My little voice warned me not to say it, but it was on the tip of my tongue before I could stop it. "G'day Roddy," I quipped and then ducked, but not fast enough.

Something small and hard nailed me in the back of the head before dropping to the floor. Spinning around, I caught him in the exact same pose, he didn't look as though he'd moved, but the battery on the floor at my feet proved otherwise. The merest hint of a smile glimmered in those beady little blue eyes.

"See ya atsix o'clock."

He nods and turns back to one of his gizmos that looks a lot like a boombox, I beat a hasty retreat up to the command center.

SG: A

I find Weir pacing back and forth in front of the command console, looking like she's about to smack someone, and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out just who. Apparently, Kavanagh had been up early this morning, also, and for reasons I had yet to discover, had disassembled the main computer station. You know the big screen on the back wall that we all look at for Atlantis's layout? Does the idea of fuzzy static mean anything to you? And judging by the lines of distress on his face, all was not going as well as he'd planned.

"What's going on?" Dr. Doom gives me the eye and I smile as sincere as I can. "Need a hand?" Really, I'm trying to be helpful. I catch Grodin out of the corner of my eye staring at the ceiling, trying his damnedest not to laugh.

"I'm patching the interface program with a reroute network so that the science stations can monitor the gate power flow during high and low times of use. Possibly, we should be able to come up with a plan to conserve energy." Kavanagh attempted to look important as he spoke, but the pony-tail killed any and all respect he could possibly ever garner. And when he shoved his coke bottle glasses up his nose, that was it, call the game. Nerds never win. Geeks win, nerds loose. And everyone knows I respect my lab geeks.

"Doc, we need to get this board back up and running. Tell us what to do and we'll help you put it back together."

He studies me a moment before resigning to the fact that I was right. Handing me a pair of pliers, he points to a cable that needs to be reconnected on the backside of the panel.

Now it's one of those fat, ominous power cords that doesn't just snap in, but needs to be wiggled a half dozen times, and then tightened into place with tools. I can do this. Hunkering down, I have the pliers in one hand and the cable in the other. Giving it a good shove into the socket, I reached out to tighten it...and got the zap of a lifetime.

I'm not totally certain what happened in the next few moments. All I did know is that I was flat on my back looking at a kaleidoscope of colors worse than any picture taking event I'd ever been to. My mouth tasted funny. All I heard was a loud buzzing noise. And I couldn't move. Or at least I didn't think I could until all of the sudden my arms and legs started without me.

And then Beckett was in my face. I could see his lips moving but couldn't make out what he was saying. The last thing I remember was him putting a mask over my face.

SG: A

I didn't think I'd ever hurt this much in my entire life. I didn't even want to breathe. Lying perfectly still, I listened to hear the telltale beeping of the heart monitor, and came up silent. And although, I might not have heard the beeping, I could feel my heart begin to do double time in my chest and someone nearby must have figured out that John Sheppard had decided to rejoin the land of the living, for someone touched my shoulder.

It took every iota of energy I had left to peel my eyes open, and even then they only made it half mast. Everything looked blurry and I blinked slowly hoping to clear up the fuzziness. A face swam in front of mine, and after a minute or so, I was finally able to make out Carson. His mouth was moving but I still couldn't tell what he was saying.

He must have figured out that I didn't hear him because next thing I know he's holding a handwritten note up in front of my face. 'Are you in pain?'

I take stock of my faculties and find myself numb, kind of tingly, and I have that drugged cottony feeling. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth when I try to speak, so he slips an ice chip into my mouth. It feels like a small piece of heaven and I close my eyes as it melts on my tongue.

Another tap to the shoulder. Another note. 'John, stay awake a little longer.' He flips the page to another note. 'Blink if you can feel my hand on your arms and legs.'

And I do when I feel slight pressure on my extremities. He looks pleased. My eyelids start another downward slide when another tap occurs. Carson's back with yet another note. 'Do you know what happened?'

I blink and try to lift my hands to rub my face but something is holding them in place. Glancing down, I discover two set of hands carefully pinnng each arm to the bed. My hands are wrapped in white gauze mittens and I don't have a shirt on. Realization sinks in and hits me like water to the face...Oh my god, I'm burned!

The monitors must have really been beeping because the next thing I know, Rodney's face appears in front of me. He mouths the word, 'Breathe slowly' and I'm able to understand. Someone, probably Beckett, had spoken to him because he looked away briefly to nod before shifting his gaze back to me. My eyes locked onto his, searching for anything that might tell me what was going on.

'You'll be okay. You were electrocuted,' he mouthed.

I must have frowned because he frowned down at me. A flash of anger flittered across his face before he returned to his calming demeanor. 'Kavanagh didn't shut off the power.'

I stared at him, and then glanced down to my hands, and then back to him. I could feel the painkillers numbing me back into oblivion but I didn't want to go. He must have known that and gave me a brief half smile, patting my hair. 'Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up.'

That was good enough for me and I let go.

SG: A

"John, can you hear me, lad?"

Beckett's quiet lilt was one of the most beautiful sounds I'd ever heard. Cautiously turning my head in the direction of his voice, I licked my lips and nodded. There was still a wicked ringing in the background but not nearly as strong as before. "Water," I was able to scratch out through the desert wasteland of my throat.

"Aye, lad. Rodney hand me the cup," Beckett directed over my head and soon a straw touched my parched lips. "Slowly,"he encouraged.

I sighed as the soothing liquid spilled down my throat. "Thanks."

"How do you feel, Major?"

It was time to be honest and I knew they weren't going to like the answer, "Hurts."

"Where?" I could hear the shifting of bodies around me and someone walked back to my bed.

"Head, chest, hands, throat."

Carson sighed loudly and I felt a line of cold slip up my arm. He must have dosed me with more happy meds. "Your hands are burned from entry and exit wounds, the headache is from being electrocuted, and your heart stopped…" He paused to clear his throat; I could only imagine what it must be like from his side of the bed. "Your heart stopped and we had to perform CPR and insert an airway, but being you, you began breathing on your own again pretty quick."

Hands from the other side of the bed touched my arm lightly and I turned in that direction to find Rodney staring at me. His eyes looked red and tired, his face appeared aged, but he still could pull out a smile when it came time. "I knew you didn't want to go to the party either, but don't you think this is a bit extreme?"

I don't say anything, just continue staring at him. He'd been crying. The only reason McKay might ever cry is if someone stole his stash of goodies or if a friend had died. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

He shakes his head and looks away. I watch his throat bob back and forth as he tries to get his emotions under control. "Don't…" he started, looking at the wall, and then down at me, "don't ever do that to me again. Do you have any idea what Carson and I went through?"

Rolling my head back over, I look at the Scot standing silently at my side. His eyes hold the same haunted look as Rodney's. "I'm sorry," I whisper again.

"You gave us a bit of a scare," Carson finally admitted softly.

I'm beginning to drift again and am so close to sleep until someone, I think it was McKay, patted me on the head again. "Stop that," I slurred.

"Can't help it," the Canadian teased lightly. "I'm still checking to make sure all the fires are out."

Now that got my attention and my eyes popped back open, "Fires?"

"Rodney," Beckett scolded, "I told you to wait until later."

Too late, the relief was too much for my friend and he couldn't wait any longer. "Maybe they caught it on surveillance?"

"What?" I could see the wheels turning between the two of them and if I wasn't so darn tired, I'd reach out and whack them each on the arm.

The smug smile made its famed appearance as McKay reached out and patted me again on the head! "Stop that!" I croaked.

"Let's just say, you'll need to make an appointment with Radek for a trim."

I glance back and forth, trying to decide if they're messing with me. How did they know Radek cut my hair? "You're lying."

Carson grinned to McKay before pulling out a mirror. Sure enough, it looks as though I'm going to be blending in with the jarheads for awhile. Great.

SG: A

Something loud banged on the infirmary floor, startling me awake. I had to blink several times to get my bearings before remembering why I was there. A rustle at my side and the curtain around my bed shifting shut caught my attention.

"Be quiet," I heard McKay hiss. "The major is sleeping."

"Sorry, doctor," Radek replied softly. "We tried to make him quiet. At least he stopped singing about Waltzing Matilda."

"Put him over there," Carson directed. More shuffling and then the Scot's no-nonsense voice questioned, "All right, what happened?"

"He was dancing on table, drunk as a skunk, when he fell off. Cracked his head a good one and from the looks of it, a few front teeth also."

"Aye. Radek, go call Dr. Caster. Once we sober up Mickey, he's gonna have to have those worked on and I'm leaving that to a certified dentist."

"G'day, doc," the Aussie slurred happily, before a strange heaving noise emanated from beyond the curtain that I recognized instantly. A smile crossed my face as I sank deeper into my pillow. Adonis was going to have a lot of explaining to do in the morning to his fiancé.

The curtain shifted again and Rodney took up his seat once more at my side. He snickered and shrugged, "At least your hair will grow back."

We both smirked, trying not to let the others hear us, especially Beckett. From out of nowhere he appeared though, and shook his head in disgust before making his way back to his new patient. The off tune singing of Waltzing Matilda filled the silence as I slipped back to sleep.

A/N: Originally, this was The End, but a plot bunny hunted me down and now there is a second chapter from Rodney's POV. Enjoy!


	2. You Don't Say

**You Don't Say: **Rodney's POV to the day's events

Oh, for Pete's sake! He looks like hell and smells even worse. Is that crap on his feet? So help me, if he clogs my drain with hair and, and fecal matter, he damn well better be willing to clean it back out. I've got too much to do to be playing Janitor in a Drum.

Would you look at this? Just look at it! An hour of trying to figure out how this to get this idiot box of Zelenka's to work, and it's the batteries! Did he even try them? Oh no. 'I've got to get party set up, Rodney.' 'Boom box not working, Rodney.' 'Maybe you take look at it, Rodney?'

What? Do I look like the Energizer Bunny? Let me just run on down to Wal-Mart and get you a fresh pack. I'm a busy man. Don't people realize I'm a busy man?

Speaking of busy, look who's back. Wait a minute, I know that expression. Oh, I don't think so. No, no, no, I must not cave. I can't believe him, lecturing me on social etiquette. Do they even have such things in the States? Zelenka…Team…Beckett…We're in, we're out. Selective hearing. A gift that keeps on giving.

Fine. Whatever. I caved, alright? He knew I would. I hate him for that. He thinks he's won this round. Did that follicularly challenged bastard just call me Roddy?

I pegged him perfectly with that useless battery by means of pure precision I didn't even know I had. Smack dead center to the back of his head. Yeah, he looks scared…and he should. Go find Weir you coward!

SG: A

"_Medical team to the control room! Medical team to the control room_!"

Don't ask what made me go there at a run. I couldn't explain it even if I wanted to. Shoving bodies out of my way, I plowed up the steps from in front of the gate only to come to a screeching halt on the landing, stopping dead in my tracks.

He was smoking. There was smoke rising off his hands and hair. There was smoke rising from the control board. There was the smell of burnt flesh and melted connections hanging heavy in the air. There was a live wire slapping against the floor mere inches from Sheppard's body, and not a damn soul moving to do a thing about it.

"Get the hell back!" I snap and see the bodies shift away from the console and the Major. Ignoring the sound of pounding feet coming up the stairs from behind me, I focus on the live serpent writhing on the floor before me. Stepping quickly over, around, and up, I make my way to the opposite side of the console, grab three tiles and toss them to the floor before slapping a fourth into one of the empty slots. The serpent dies a silent death.

Glancing back up, I watch in horror to see Carson already working feverishly, demanding items that my brain refuses to identify. Sheppard's seizing, his body trying to unload the excess energy downloaded in the one massive jolt to his system. Unable to tear my disbelieving gaze away, I watch as one of the largest needles I think I've ever seen is plunged into his now unmoving chest. Hands pressed together in compressions, someone counting out loud. I find myself counting with them.

"Come on. Come on," I encourage under my breath.

A hand dropped to my shoulder in an attempt at comfort and I shrug it off.

"I can't find a pulse," a tech anxiously informs Beckett.

"Come on, Major," Carson urges under his breath, sweat dripping from his brow as he continues to pump the mans chest. "You bloody damn well not be thinkin' about meeting your maker. Breathe, damn it." Stopping momentarily, he listened with his stethoscope before shaking his head. "Airway," he demanded, grabbing the appliance and tipping Sheppard's head back. Inserting the tube with precision, he snapped the bag to the end and began pumping. "Bring that litter over here. We need to move him now."

And then I found my feet were moving. Somehow I was at the major's side, helping to lift him onto that gurney. Carson looked up briefly to catch my eye, his expression telling me everything I didn't want to know, before he directed his team for departure.

Seconds later, I blinked. The smell was still there. Used medical wrappings littered the floor. Shocked crew members with glazed expressions stared at one another in disbelief. And one man appeared to be shrinking back away from the rest.

"What the hell did you do!" I raged, grabbing the ratty haired weasel bastard son of a bitch by the front of his jacket, slamming him with the force of all the adrenalin flooding throughout me. "If he dies…" I start, wanting him to understand everything that I could do to him, to make his every moment from now until eternity to be a living hell.

"Rodney. Rodney!" Elizabeth grabbed my arms in an attempt to peel me off of Kavanagh's quaking form. "Let go!" she demanded.

But I can't. I slam him again, watching in satisfaction as his head strikes against the wall, causing his glasses to clatter to the floor.

Another set of hands grabs me, stronger this time than Elizabeth's. They tug harder and I have to let go, the sheer force of the pull dragging me to the floor with a thump. Cool hands grab the sides of my face and turn me away from glaring at the largest mistake Atlantis has ever seen.

"Rodney." Elizabeth waited, gave me time to focus on her before she continued, "We need to go to the infirmary. Carson just paged and it's urgent."

"I can't," I snapped, a sudden tightening in my chest told me not to go. I wasn't ready to see death finalized. "I have to fix the board."

"Dr. Zelenka is here, Rodney. He can fix it." Her hands stayed on my face, her grief filled eyes trying to relay that we could do this together.

Searching the room, I spot Radek standing next to the control console, his eyes on me and not the board. He gives me a slight nod.

An overwhelming sense of drowning washes over me and I can't hold my head up any longer. The firm grip that still holds my arm squeezes slightly and tugs, pulling me to my feet. I would have fallen if it hadn't been for Peter's support. Eyes full of compassion met mine as the gentle Brit gave a slight smile. "He's the major, Doctor McKay. Nine lives and all."

A wrenched shudder releases from my chest. And then another. Losing it in front of all these people is the last thing I want to happen. Tuning brusquely, I snapped, "You know where to find me," and then jogged down the stairs, Elizabeth close on my heels.

SG: A

We waited. Her arm looped through mine, her small hand giving the occasional pat of reassurance on my forearm. She tried and I had to give her credit, but as the time continued to press on, unrelenting calls that demanded her elsewhere eventually forced her to make the decision to leave my side. Not that I wasn't grateful, but once I found myself alone, I allowed myself to shut down.

On the other side of that decorated door lay the burned, dead, empty shell of one of the few individuals I ever gave a damn about. An unfamiliar feeling gripped my chest and I found it difficult to breathe. Gasping to pull air into lungs too small, the first sob broke forth. And then another. And then another.

I don't remember ever crying in my entire life. Sarcasm and brains successfully carried me through every disappointment, every loss, and left me hollow but alive. I didn't need anyone, didn't want anyone, and as long as I was on top, didn't care about anyone. But now lightyears from home, surrounded by individuals who refused to accept an arrogant bastard as just that, I discovered for the first time in my life what it meant to have friends. Not many, but enough to make a difference.

And now there was one gone. I watched him die. With firm resolve, I decided to never allow that to happen again. The pain hurt too badly, the loss too great.

My resolve lasted a mere ten seconds, the amount of time it took for the doors to open and Carson to step forward, a small hint of a smile easing the burden of his weary face. "I got him back," was all he said.

I jumped to my feet and practically planted myself face first on the floor if he hadn't caught me. His blue eyes studied me carefully, recording everything they saw while taking me by the arm and leading me back to a curtained off bed in the corner. "He's asleep, lad, and I need to keep an eye on him for the next few days, but I believe he's gonna be fine."

We stop outside the curtain and I lift a shaking hand to pull it back, still seeing the fresh images from the control room in my mind. Swallowing back the trepidation and fear, I tug the soft material away to reveal one living breathing Major John Sheppard.

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I think he looks like hell and I tell him so. "You look like hell. You know that?" I whisper. "Of course, this time you aren't covered in shit and smelling bad." I pause to take a whiff and change my mind. "Okay, you do smell bad and if you thought you were having a bad hair day this morning, you're in for one helluva shock later when you wake up."

Realizing my poor choice of words, I felt my knees weaken and if it wasn't for Carson using his psychic voodoo powers, dragging a chair up behind me, I would have made the proverbial 'third times the charm' crash to the floor. I felt his hand on the back of my neck pushing my head forward between my knees. "Breathe slowly," he instructed.

Still staring at my shoes, my tunnel vision returning to normal, I feel his hand remain on my back between my shoulder blades. "It was close, lad, but we got him." I hear a slight crack in his voice and realize that I'm not the only one who finds this whole damn mess uncomfortably painful.

"Who knew?"

The hand shifted off and Carson stepped to the side. "Knew what?"

I sit up and lean back into the chair, taking in the pale wrapped form on the bed before giving the Scot my best quirked brow, "Him. You and I've known each other since practically the dawn of this whole mess. But him, he's just a glorified flyboy with a luck of the draw gene. Who knew he'd be the one to make this place interesting?"

That made Carson smile. "We did try to scare him off."

"We? You're the one who sent a drone missile after him."

"I didn't know that was goin' to happen! And what about you, treating him like the hired help for weeks until we finally got here."

"I just wanted him to know who was boss."

"Aye, lad. He certainly laid that idea to rest."

Quiet filled the room except for the beep of the heart monitor.

"You stay put while I get you some juice," Carson said. Patting me on the shoulder, he turned to leave me to my thoughts.

SG: A

"You know, this chair is really beginning to hurt my ass and I do have work to get back to, so if you're planning on dragging this out for days on end, I hate to tell you , but you've got another half hour and then I'm out of here."

He didn't move. Not that I thought he would but it was worth a shot. Standing up, I stretch and pop my back before walking over to the other side of the bed. I might as well check out some of Carson's toys before he gets back from picking up the latest lab results. Following the heart lead lines, I examine the back of the monitor before turning it slowly and study the rhythm of Sheppard's ticker. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Is it me or are they changing? The numbers on the side increase slowly, one tick, then another, and then another.

Leaning forward, I watch his face, seeing if his eyeballs move. There it was! A twitch! I saw a twitch!

Hurrying out around the curtain, I half yell, half whisper, "Carson, get your ass back in here. I think he's waking back up." Ducking back inside the curtain, I missed whatever hex the Scot declared after me for making too much noise. Moments later, he stood on the opposite side of the bed and waited with me.

There it was again! Another twitch! I glanced up to meet Carson's look and saw him smiling down at the major, so I looked back down, only to see slits of hazel trying to stay open. It dawned on me, watching the two interact, that something was wrong, and when Carson started scratching out notes on the back of his clipboard, it hit me like a ton of bricks, 'He can't hear!'

I stand a little closer, my hands resting on his upper arm when he turns his head to look at his hands. About that time, the heart monitor began picking up speed and the look of Sheppard's face was one of complete panic. Not even thinking about what I was doing, I leaned into his line of sight. "Breathe slowly," I said, mimicking Carson's words to me earlier.

"Keep him calm, lad, while I increase his morphine," Carson instructed and I looked up just a second to see him insert a needle into the IV port on the bag before giving it a little shake.

Glancing back down, I found the hazel eyes locked onto mine. Trying to be reassuring and hoping he could read my lips, I said slowly, "You'll be okay. You were electrocuted." Okay, so not the most comforting words, but from the look on his face, he understood me.

When he frowned up at me, I felt my blood begin to boil once more. "Kavanagh didn't shut off the power," I snapped angrily but then quickly shut it down, not wanting to get him upset. Watching his drugged lids droop, I rolled my eyes and smiled, "Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." And he did.

SG: A

Carson finally got tired of me being underfoot and kicked me out, sending me after a sandwich. It could have been the IV bag he carried over to me, waving the large bore needle attached to the end that finally got me moving. Sure I knew it was only a threat, but with my luck, I'd fall asleep and that blood sucking vampire would find a way to siphon me the first chance he got if I tried to ignore him.

Actually feeling refreshed, I settled back in my chair at the bedside, only to hear a scratchy quiet voice demanding 'water'. Passing over the cup of water to Beckett, I watched the major savor his first small sip. Carson was already in full blown doctor mode so I just sat back and waited, surprised that he didn't kick me out.

Hearing how he was in pain, and then Carson filling him in on what had happened, I stood back up and gave his arm another light reassuring squeeze, before spouting off something about not wanting to go to Radek's party. His gaze shifted to meet mine.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Crap, I could feel the tears threaten to make a reappearance and I swallowed several times to get everything back under control. "Don't…" I started, looking at the wall, and then back down at him, "don't ever do that to me again. Do you have any idea what Carson and I went through?"

Can you believe he apologized again? Carson was talking to him again but I was too damn happy to pay any attention. Studying him closely, I took another gander at his hair and reached up to feel if it was as dry and sharp as it looked.

"Stop that," he whispered to me. But in all honestly, I had no intention of doing so. "Can't help it. I'm still checking to make sure all the fires are out."

"Fires?"

"Rodney," Beckett scolded from across the bed, "I told you to wait until later."

I've just sat for hours, waiting and watching for him to wake up. If they think I'm not going to take full advantage of this, they're crazy. "Maybe they caught it on surveillance?"

"What?" Sheppard squeaked, a look of utter dismay crossing his face.

I couldn't resist and patted the spiky dry tufts once again, a few pieces breaking off and sticking to my fingers. "Let's just say, you'll need to make an appointment with Radek for a trim."

Vanity, your name is Sheppard. He's starting to look a little concerned. "You're lying."

I shrug and look to Carson who is also grinning and pulling out a mirror. When the major stared in dismay at his fried hair, grunting 'Great' in disgust, we both lost it, the previous hours of anguish slipping away like a bad dream.

SG: A

I sat with him that night in the infirmary until he finally fell asleep. How he pulled that one off with Mickey's rendition of Waltzing Matilda, sung in a drunken stupor, is beyond me. It must have been the drugs, is all I can say. Slipping out silently, I made my way back to the control room to stare at the scene of the crime. Everything was back in its rightful place and there wasn't any sign left of the earlier trauma that had occurred.

The night tech on duty gave me a nod of acknowledgement before returning to whatever it was he was doing.

Making my way back down the steps, I stood and stared at the gate, lost in thought over several lightyears away, when the sound of someone clearing their throat behind me caught my attention. Not in the mood for company, I frowned, putting on my best glare for whoever dared to disturb me. Only this was yet another immune soul who had discovered that my bark and bite were useless.

"Radek?"

"Rodney."

"You need something?"

A slow smile blossomed over the Czech's face as he brought his hands out from behind his back. There was that damned boombox making a hideous reappearance. "I made something for you." Tapping the power button, the sound of Wraith stunners, people shouting, and a small explosion could be heard.

In his other hand, he held out a couple of homemade cherry bombs and some super glue. "I was thinking…" he started, waiting for me to reply.

"Always a good plan," I snarked back, tossing in an eye roll for good measure.

"Maybe, we find good use for some leftover party favors?"

Now, see, there's someone who knows how to release a little tension after a hard day at work. "What do you have in mind?" As if I even have to ask.

"Dr. Kavanagh, he sleeps to peaceful. Needs to learn to wake up quickly."

"Hmmmm. True. What if he was off world and his team was getting attacked?"

"Yes, yes," my devious cohort grinned, handing me the cherry bombs and then pulling out a handful of empty rubber gloves. "Warm water in these with small hole?"

I feel the final edges of stress slip away. Trying to cover up my laughter by pretending to cough when the tech glanced over the railing in concern from above, I gestured towards the hallway, "We need to get Beckett."

"Aye, lad, I'm already here," the Scot whispered from the shadows.

Okay, I jumped. "Don't do that to me!" I hissed.

"Come," Radek urged, grabbing me by the sleeve and dragging me forward. "No time for chit chat. Work to be done."

We didn't get a lot of sleep that night, but all I have to say is it was so worth it! Wait until Sheppard hears about this one!

The End


End file.
